Life On The Edge
by midnightintheashes
Summary: Jace Wayland finds himself stranded in the middle of nowhere after he is captured by Valentine's men, but is dumped after they leave him for dead. Explores his journey through the wilderness back to civilization and his family whom he hopes to find well and alive.
1. The Solitude

**Hey guys. So this is my first story so there are probably going to be a couple stylistic improvements that could be made as well as the usual spelling/grammar that I might have overlooked. Happy reading :)**

Chapter 1: The Solitude

He awoke screaming into the dark. Drenched in cold sweat yet again. He struggled to sit up and flailed blindly against the restraining bonds abruptly around him. Amid the sudden stress his heart began to strain, beating wildly like a bird trapped in a cage, and he could feel his breathing speeding up. There would be no escape for him. That he knew. The restraints were too strong, made to withstand even the most desperate struggles. Then without warning, they were gone. Just like that. _How I wish I could do the same for my thoughts._

Releasing himself from the arms of the now tangled jacket thrown hastily over himself, he ran a hand through his rumpled hair, once shining gold, now a tarnished matted bronze. He grimaced slightly as he stretched. The hard ground had not been kind to him and there was a chill in the air. Still, there was nothing but to go on. So he did. He didn't look back.

In the dimness of a half-awakened world, he picked his way through the debris left behind from people long gone, the people who had left him for dead. His eyes clouded over for a second as the memories threatened to spill over, but he squeezed his eyes tightly together and when they reopened, the amber irises were clear once more. Something glimmered among the wreckage at his feet out of the corner of his eye and he paused. A jagged shard of a shattered mirror lay half buried in the dust, a haunting reminder of something once beautiful. Its fragmented surface reflected a kaleidoscope of sunken eyes staring at him and he looked away quickly, not wanting to see the torturous hurt that screamed out from the hollowed depths. He wasn't sure he'd recognized himself.

The dawn came, guiding the delicate rays of sunlight that inched almost painfully through the dusty air, but he barely looked up from the rhythm of his blistered bare feet, lapsing into indifference as he walked. Uncaring. Unfeeling. There was nothing that the dawn brought to look forward to; nothing that he cared about, anyway. Indifference. It was so much more effortless to sink into than to grapple with the invisible emotions that tormented him from the inside. The night wasn't much better either. He could hear the wind howling across the blank canvas around him as the temperature dropped. Nothing to be found but destruction and desolation.

He kept going until he could no longer tell which way was up and which way was down. Walking away from the toxic thoughts that clung to him like oil on a bird's feathers. Weighing him down. Suffocating him in a sea of poison that no one could see. Only the mantra that he chanted soundlessly kept him barely sane.

_My name is Jace Lightwood._

_I am 17 years old._

_I am a Shadowhunter._

_I am a survivor._

Then exhaustion washed over him and extinguished the world, plunging him into the welcome abyss of oblivion.

**Let me know what you think. Did it flow well? Clarity? How easy was it to read? Were you intrigued? Did you get bored halfway through? Pace – too fast/too slow? Length - too short/too long?**

**It will (hopefully) relate more to Jace as a character as the story progresses.**

**Thank you**

_**~ midnightintheashes**_


	2. Am I Only Dreaming?

**Heya. I am so so sorry. I know I haven't updated in ages and I don't really have an excuse considering it was the holidays. I know this is short – still figuring out how to write long chapters (what's the secret, guys?). Anyhow, hope you had a great Christmas and New Year's and happy reading. Special thanks go to ilovemesomecaptainamerica and Carter Kay for your lovely, motivational reviews. To answer your question, I don't think there'll be any Clace for now since Jace is the only character at the moment, but I am going to try work in more of Jace's character and more references to the Mortal Instruments as I go on. Remember to rate and review! Thank you 3 ~ midnightintheashes**

Chapter 2: Am I only dreaming?

He drifted unwillingly in dreams that skittered across his mind in a series of fleeting images that he didn't want to see. A flash of brilliant red hair. The tinkle of carefree laughter. A stunning smile. Green trusting eyes that reminded him of the person he strove to be. Then those same eyes that he had come to love darkened to black and their sunny warmth drained out until he was staring at the man he had once called Father. Valentine Morgenstern.

Fear skittered down his spine despite himself, but he hid it well. After all, he'd learnt from the best, imitating Valentine's genuine indifference as a child to conceal any sign of weakness. He raised his chin, the characteristic arrogance he used so often as a shield seeping through, but Valentine's amused voice whispered, startlingly close, into his ear, _Like father like son, the similarities are striking_. He whirled around, but there was no one there. There was only the steady drip, drip, drip of water from the jagged stalactite teeth that hung from the low ceiling onto the stony floor. Alone. "I AM NOT YOU", he roared into the silence. There was no reply.

He paced the chamber. Confined. Hemmed in. Trapped. Only his unsettled thoughts to keep him company. _Am I going crazy?_ He dismissed the notion as soon as it occurred to him. Still, the uncharacteristic thoughts lingered. Circling the chamber with one hand skimming the rough wall, he closed his eyes, still in motion. _Splash._ His foot sank into a thin layer of water unexpectedly and his amber eyes snapped open again. His searching gaze soon found the source – the trickle of water from above had widened into a steady stream. As he watched, a flicker of alarm in his tawny eyes, the icy cold water reached his ankles. Then his hips. He'd started to shiver, but he set his jaw resolutely. _They_ were responsible for this and he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Besides, they needed him alive. Didn't they?

He was treading water now, avoiding death by impalement. There were only couple of inches of air left in the cramped space, but the water continued to pour in. In the meagre light, he braced himself for the inevitable, half expecting the water to stop. Hoping for it to stop. It didn't.

Underwater, the light barely filtered through and he shut his eyes momentarily. His lungs were already bursting and it could hardly been half a minute since the water had filled the cavern. He fought his growing need for air, but he knew time was trickling away through his fingers. He needed a way out. His vision came in flickers now. Fingers clawing at the ceiling. A stab of pain as a gash appeared along a finger, oozing tendrils of red that snaked away. The murky water getting darker. He breathed in reflexively and inhaled a lungful burning fire. Pain. Overwhelming. Searing. Pain. Then he was floating. Disconnected. The water cocooned him. Womb-like. Serene. It was almost warm. Odd. He opened his eyes tentatively. Green beautiful eyes. Red flowing hair. Right beside him. Clary, he breathed, but there was no sound. She smiled sadly at him. Then there was nothing.

Waking up. A flutter of blond lashes. Back from the dead. An inhalation. An exhalation. Then awareness.

He hated the dreams most of all. Even after the torture from Valentine and his men had ended, the dreams prolonged it. He revisited a memory every night. Alone. Vulnerable. Lost. That's what they made him feel – like a little boy again, floundering in the depths of adult expectations that he couldn't fulfil.

Valentine had worked hard to break his spirit, the same fortitude that Valentine had fostered endlessly in the first ten years of his life. There was a certain beauty to it, an elegant symmetry, even in destruction. The same hand that he had trusted before he could even walk now strove to shatter him beyond recognition. What he gives, he takes away. After all, what was he? A broken toy? A failed experiment? It would be more humane to put him down – he was too soft for his own good anyway, too good to be used for Valentine's twisted ploys. At least, that's what Valentine thought.


End file.
